


Death to the Ones at the End of the Serenade

by fadedmoon



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Ghost!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedmoon/pseuds/fadedmoon
Summary: Laying on his old bed, one arm behind his head, he raised his free hand up to a sunbeam cutting through the window, and smiled at the slight warmth that grew. At least he could still feel something.-----(No one actually dies; Steve is already a ghost)





	Death to the Ones at the End of the Serenade

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably gonna be writing short WIPs and posting. It's kind of a warm up exercise cause I do have a story I want to write, but I figure I'd post them because feedback is encouraging, and I might end up completing some/all if the writing mood strikes me. However, if anyone really likes this idea and wants to run with it themselves, please feel free to ask, but also please credit me if you do so :P i.e. label it as a remix when posting on AO3.

It was a quiet day. One of those soft, gentle summer days, where dust swirled in the sunlight; days like these, Steve craved to feel the unbearable humidity again, even though it made his asthma act up. He missed… feeling. Properly.

Laying on his old bed, one arm behind his head, he raised his free hand up to a sunbeam cutting through the window, and smiled at the slight warmth that grew. At least he could still feel something.

A loud bubble of laughter broke through the mellow trance Steve had settled in. He was up and across the house to the top front window in a flash, peeking from behind a curtain down at the garden below. He scoffed; he didn’t have to peek any more. He was fucking dead. No one could see him. With an annoyed roll of the eyes, Steve moved closer to get a better view of the peace-breaker in question.

There were two peace-breakers, in fact. One with his back turned, gesturing wildly, while the other struggled with the old ‘FOR SALE’ sign stuck in the mud. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. Thieves? Why would they steal a for sale sign? Are the kids these days really _that_ desperate to seem cool?

But no. Once the sign was pried free, the second peace-breaker threw it into the back of a pick-up truck, waved to the first peace-breaker, and drove off. What?

The man then turned around and looked up at the house, a smile on his face and his hands on his hips, and that’s when Steve realised. The summer warmth clouding around and through Steve’s form vanished, and was replaced with icy-cold dread.

“Hey!”

Steve blinked and looked back down to realise the new owner was staring up at the window. At him. And he seemed… angry.

“Get outta there! That ain’t your home!”

Oh, my poor naïve friend, but it is.

And that’s when he started heading for the front door.

“I’m comin’ in there, right now, and taking you home, young man. You’re _lucky_ I ain’t callin’ the cops, but if I catch you round here again, you bet, your ass is gonna end up in juvie!”

Steve panicked and ran back to his room, looking for somewhere to hide, with no luck; if this guy could see him, hiding wouldn’t make a difference. And when he heard the heavy footsteps ascending the stairs, he simply closed his eyes, and let fate be.

But no more yelling came. No angry newbie turning terrified as they realise they can see the Prince poster through Steve’s head. Only the shuffling of newbie’s boots through each room, then downstairs, then back up again… and finally a soft, confused, “What the Hell?”

Steve’s heart (or, at least, the memory of it) fluttered. He opened his eyes, and what he saw would have taken his breath away, if he still had lungs to fill.

The newbie in the soft summer sunlight was one of the most beautiful sights Steve had ever seen.


End file.
